Pledged and Broken
by Narya of the Fire
Summary: What happens to Snape and Malfoy after Dumbledore's death and when they must confront Lord Voldemort. PostHBP. Book 6 SOILERS. Oneshot.


Let me first say this…IF YOU HAVE NOT READ BOOK 6 DO NOT READ THIS.

**Disclaimer:** All is property to J.K. Rowling. Not me. And no, there are no original characters.

**Summary: ** The aftermath what happened to Snape and Draco as they retreated on that fateful night of Dumbledore's death.

**Warning: **Violence. Language. A little bit of blood/gore. Not much really. MAJOR SPOILERS

The second warning is that now after reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I now absolutely, 100 hate, loath, abhor, and wish the death of Snape. Even more than I hate Bellatrix. Snape is now nothing more than a low-life, cowardly, murdering, fucking asshole. If there are any Snape fans, you may not wish to read this. I used to be a Snape fan…now I want to tear out his heart and rip it to shreds.

**Notes: **None really. Just the fact that I now have four people that better die slow, torturous, painful, mutilating, pro-longed, agonizing and bloody deaths has increased to 4: Voldemort, Wormtail, Bellatrix, and Snape. But now, I actually like Draco Malfoy a bit.

Remember…this is post book 6

MVIVXVIVM

Draco Malfoy shifted uncomfortably in the soft green satin chair he was seated in. His pale silver blonde hair fell down over his eyes, which were downcast in their grey defeat. He could not remember feeling more the fool than how he felt now. Why didn't he just kill Dumbledore when he had the chance? The crooked nosed old fool would have been dead by his hands, _his, _a 16-year-old unqualified wizard. He would have been the Dark Lord's valued and most favorite servant. And now here he is; staring at the end of a darkened wall. Why? "_Damn you Dumbledore…damn you to hell," _the teenage wizard cursed in fury.

He hated Albus Dumbledore, hated in to the core; him and all of his stupid ideals about Mudbloods and their equality. Draco mentally scoffed at Dumbledore's request to not use the word 'Mudblood' in his presence. His fist shook in fury even now at the mere memorial mention of that old muggle-loving senile fool. What would his father say now? If Lucius Malfoy were not incarcerated in Azkaban Prison, what would he say to his fist clenched, infuriated, and defeated son? Well, it wouldn't be among the most loving or fatherly of things, that's for sure. Draco's father had never been the warm and paternal type, but Draco never really paid it much heed; all the love and attention he received from his mother more than accounted for what Lucius Malfoy had refused to acknowledge. He was Malfoy, one of the last of a pure and noble lineage, as noble as the ancient Blacks (_"With the exception of that flea bitten dog,"_ Malfoy mused), he didn't need love or fatherly pampering. It did no one any good. Albeit, Lucius Malfoy had taught his son to survive on your own, the truth about blood purity, and the ideals of Lord Voldemort—"There is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it"—and for that, Draco knew he owed his father his life. So when the Dark Lord came to Draco, in replacement of Lucius, Draco was more than happy to pledge his loyalty to the Dark Lord. And what's better, he had accomplished his goal of bringing Death Eaters into the domain of the Muggle-loving fool. But why couldn't he kill him? Draco impaled his fist on the nearest object he could find, which happened to be the hard, walnut wall.

The youth only wished that the famous Harry Potter would have seen Dumbledore face as he pleaded for his miserable life to the Potions Master. If the situation had not been so serious, Draco would have laughed himself senseless at the sight of the Headmaster of Hogwarts asking for his life from the man who would ultimately murder him. Snape had done it so easily; he didn't even need to shout the Killing Curse in triumph. All it took was a soft mutter and a jet of green light and… Draco didn't know whether to feel overjoyed with happiness that Dumbledore was gone for good, or to be consumed with rage that he had failed his task bestowed upon him by the Dark Lord himself.

It was currently nighttime outside and the stars twinkled against the deep purple, velvet sky. He would have to pay, as he well knew. He had failed to complete his task and there was always punishment for failure, especially when the punisher was Lord Voldemort. More than once Draco could recollect the memories of his mother telling him the screams of pain that the Dark Lord had inflicted on his father for failure to keep his word. The most recent, and agonizing—as Narcissa Malfoy said—was the incident with the Prophecy at the Ministry of Magic. Before heading to join Bellatrix Lestrange in another attempt to kill Saint Potter, the Dark Lord had a final and pain-involving encounter with Lucius Malfoy. The sixteen-year-old's mind fell on that senile, and now dead, man's words "_Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight and hid her likewise," _Draco snorted. No. He would not run like a coward. He would face his punishment and seek redemption in the eyes of his master. _Besides, there is no right side—only the weak side. I will not be weak. _Draco took a hold of the nearest solid object he could find, not really knowing what it was, and threw it with all of his strength. It burst into a thousand flying pieces. Unfortunately at that exact moment, someone decided to enter the room where Draco was held. "Draco!"

A woman wearing black robes, but not Death Eater robes, with arrow straight corn silk blonde hair, and green glazed eyes stepped in through the door. She would normally be very good looking for her age, but the crease of worry was on her brow. "Mother," Draco said. His grey eyes did not meet his mother's.

Narcissa Malfoy withdrew her long, stringy, maple wand, "Draco, it's so dark in here," she commented softly. "_Lumos," _she whispered and a light sprout out from the tip of her wand. She turned to meet her son, "Draco you did very well. I could not have asked for more," the woman said. "Your father would have been proud," added she.

"You forget mother," Draco spat out, his mouth tasting like acid, "I failed. I didn't kill him. I failed."

"Yes, and that is exactly so!" exclaimed Mrs. Malfoy. Her eyes flashed a sort of acid green in anger at her son. "Do you think that your father would want to share a cell in Azkaban with his own son? Severus is the murderer, not you. Those idiots at the Ministry will be after his blood, not yours. You are safe. I should think that even you would realize that," she scolded. Narcissa knew that Draco was too old for a school-boy scolding, but it was the burning maternal instinct in her. She also was well aware that Draco considered himself a failure for not murdering Dumbledore. The second that she saw Snape Apparate with Draco by the scruff of his neck, she could have hugged the Potions Master. It was either that or that Severus really did not want to die at the hands of the Unbreakable Vow. She would not see her only child in a cell adjacent to her husband. She absolutely refused. Never. Ever. Even Bellatrix considered Narcissa stubborn beyond all help. It was one of her strong points.

"Mother," Draco began. A suspicion rose in his stomach that his mother had somehow forced Snape to pledge that he would kill Dumbledore instead of he, "Why did Snape kill Dumbledore? It was my charge, not his? Despite the fact that I failed," he questioned.

There was another good point about Narcissa: she was very well adapted to lying. Narcissa Malfoy had become well acquainted with lying her way around the Ministry when Voldemort lost his power to that Potter brat, and Cornelius Fudge's cronies had interrogated her relentlessly at her husband's involvement. She knew her share of Occulemency, even if it did not compare to the amount that the Dark Lord, Snape, or even Lucius knew, but it was enough to get the job done. Lying to her son would be no different. "No," she said solemnly. "Although I did not agree with your charged task, as every I am quite sure, is aware of, I would not go against the word of the Dark Lord," Narcissa finished, with the eerie shadow of anger on her face.

"Humph," Draco said, knowing that it was an immature answer to give. But his mother was lying. Draco knew it. She was well at hiding it, but he knew it. _Maybe Aunt Bellatrix will be more forthcoming, _he thought silently, but doubted it. Bellatrix had a reputation for being stone walled, even around family. Draco reckoned that the only person alive that Bellatrix confided anything in was the Dark Lord, and there was nothing to be gained except for pain by him.

Soon another figure lurched into frame, again, a woman. Only this one wore the mask of a Death Eater and the midnight robes. A slightly bony, but slender hand removed the stark white mask that covered her face. The shallow skinned, heavy lidded visage of Bellatrix Lestrange was beneath it. She nodded slightly to Draco, acknowledging his presence but then turned to her sister. "Cissy, the Dark Lord is finishing with Amycus and Alecto at the moment. He requests Draco's presence," Bellatrix paused, "—and Severus' ". Draco wanted to laugh; a request from the Dark Lord was the same as a demand.

Draco scowled, _ Draco, you are a weak hearted fool, you idiot. Why didn't I just kill him?' _the boy thought savagely. It would only be a matter of time until he was as weak as the Dark Lord's little stooge, Wormtail. Luckily Draco was so preoccupied with cursing himself, and failed to notice the worrisome glances exchanged between his mother and Bellatrix.

"Thank you. Speaking of Severus, where is he?" Narcissa questioned.

"Right here," a cold voice responded. Three heads swung around to see the black robed, greasy haired, hook-nosed form of Severus Snape outside the door. His skin seemed shallow, but his black eyes flamed with the events that had transpired just a few hours previous. A wave of anger washed over Draco at the sight of the Potions Master, and it intensified when he saw his mother glance worriedly to him. Snape, being the more accomplished and hardened, no doubt noticed the expression being thrown at him by Narcissa Malfoy, but he paid no heed.

"Amycus and Alecto have just emerged from the Dark Lord's chambers. However they refuse to say what happened. But I daresay we shall find out soon enough," Snape said. Turning to Draco, "After you," he said in a chilly voice. Draco gave Snape a loathsome glance as he walked past his Potions teacher and out the door.

Outside of the tiny, and by then, cramped, room was a dark and dimly lit corridor. Small wax candles were floating in the air with their wicker's lit aflame. Like the room Draco had just emerged from, the floor was a dark, highly polished walnut as was the walls. It was so dark that the ceiling could not be identified. Daring a glance backwards, Draco saw Snape hasten his pace and his mother and aunt remain behind. "Hurry up," Snape snapped at Draco. The teenager narrowed his pale grey eyes in anger, and clenched his fist. Sure Snape may have killed Dumbledore, but that did not give him the authority to boss everyone around like he was in the same rank as the Dark Lord. Draco scowled, no—but Snape has always been Voldemort's favorite pet. It was somewhat ironic; Severus Snape was the Dark Lord's pet, just as he had always been Snape's pet in Potions. It was funny how the tables had turned.

Nearing the end of the hall, two somewhat buxom figures dressed in black robes with stark white masks covering their faces were seen. Both Draco and Snape immediately recognized them as the twin siblings of Amycus and Alecto. A pair of dark brown eyes protruded from the masks as they walked by. Apparently the Dark Lord had set before them another task, or else their masks would not be on. As Snape passed, the siblings bowed their heads slightly. '_Git,'_ Draco thought to himself, not daring himself to say it aloud knowing that only punishment would befall him for his commentary.

The pair slowed their pace until it came to a complete halt in front of a dark stone door with a snake chiseled into the grey stone. Draco had no real clue exactly as to where exactly he was; it was Snape who had Apparated him here just after clearing the Hogwarts border.

XIX

Inside the room a black cloaked figure blended in perfectly into shadow. Lord Voldemort often thought of himself as shadow—alone and everywhere. But it wasn't as if he wanted a friend; friends proved to be nothing but weakness. And weakness was the last thing he needed. A soft nock on the door caressed his earlobes and the Dark Lord said in a cold, high pitched snakelike voice "Enter". The two figures of Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape emerged into the darkness. Voldemort spun his heel to meet his guests, not bothering to lower his hood. After all, everyone knew the waxy, hollowed, chalk white, mask like visage with vivid red, and slit eyes. The Dark Lord wouldn't have it any other way. "Ah, Severus, Malfoy—I trust you know the reason for this visit," the shadowy figure said.

Draco shuddered. This was only his second meeting with the Dark Lord and he had yet to become accustomed to his presence. The tall, snake-like entity, for Draco could hardly call Lord Voldemort anything as earthly as a man, just radiated evil in an ever constant pulsating aurora. The sixteen year old wizard glanced to his left and saw the unmoving, expressionless Potions Master. It was Snape who responded first, "Yes master," he said tonelessly, but his black eyes reflected loyalty and the utmost reverence for the wizard in front of him. Draco just couldn't seem to find his tongue to respond, nor could he muster the momentum to nod his head.

"First of all—Severus—Amycus and Alecto tell me that it was you who defeated that crooked-nosed Mudblood and Muggle loving fool?" Voldemort inquired, as if daring Snape not to respond or to lie.

"Yes, Master," Snape responded.

Voldemort emitted a hollow, mirthless and down right scary laugh. It was enough to make the hairs on anyone's neck stand on end. Draco was no exception. He just kept his eyes downcast while listening to the conversation between the Dark Lord and Severus Snape. "It's ironic isn't it?" Voldemort paused, however he knew that Snape wouldn't respond. Draco guessed he added it for effect. "You have pleased the Dark Lord…oh yes. You will be hailed above all others. You have the Dark Lord's thanks," Voldemort smirked under his hood.

"Thank you Master," Snape replied, still keeping his expression and tone blank. There was no way of telling just what was going on in that mind of his. Severus bowed low and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"Young Malfoy," the Dark Lord said, turning his attention for the first time to Draco. Draco lifted his head, but still did not meet the Dark Lord's gaze. He knew better than to look into the eyes of Lord Voldemort. "You have both failed and succeeded at the same time. The Dark Lord must admit that he did not see succeeding—despite certain _persuasion,_" Voldemort finished.

Draco dug is nails so deep into his clenched fist that he soon found his hand covered in sticky crimson liquid and the metallic aroma of blood tantalized the air. He vividly recollected the many threats against his mother, and even to some varying degree, his father. After all, how could he forget them?

"—and yet, you proved yourself worthy of your father's title, for he could not penetrate Hogwarts despite all the barriers. You found a way," Voldemort hissed in a dangerous tone, despite the words of praise…"however since you did fail," Voldemort raised his long yew wand and muttered effortlessly, "_Crucio" _

Later on, Draco could only remember falling to the ground in all consuming pain and agony. It was like someone had taken a million white hot swords and drove them into his body, slowly, painfully, and torturously. The vary marrow of his bones screamed it gut wrenching pain; his blood ran red hot like his body temperature had been raised to a sweltering and non-livable 200 degrees. He could not help but scream in pain on the floor, and twitch uncontrollably as it began to gently fade away. Bullets of sweat were pouring off his brow, and Draco dared a glance at Snape who remained stone faced. The teenager knew that his face was livid with anger and humiliation but as he looked up at the scarlet slit eyes and cold black pits Draco immediately quelled his outward show of emotion. Emotion got you nowhere; he had learned that the hard way.

Snape adverted his eyes to face his master. Severus Snape knew that he would meet the same fate as Draco only to a much higher degree. The Dark Lord knew of his pact with Narcissa Malfoy, no doubt by the word of Bellatrix. Snape had never really liked her, but toleration of those you hated was necessary until revenge at hand. He inwardly smirked at the memory James Potter's death and Sirius Black's arrest. Oh yes, his years of agony and distain at the hands of those two were well worth the reward he received many years later, "_even if that Potter brat is still alive". _Hisinternal smirk widened at the pure fury he had caused Harry. An eye for an eye, as Snape always thought. And what an eye it was!

"You may leave Malfoy," Voldemort said in his high pitched mirthless tone. Draco was easy pray for him; there was no real victory to be gained by torturing a foolish teenager. Voldemort's serpentine visage turned to Snape, "You will stay here".

"Yes Master," both Draco and Snape said in unison.

Struggling, Draco managed to make it to his feet. The steel grey eyes on his face were lit ablaze in a kamikaze of hurt, pain, and sheer anger. With that he exited and shut the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Snape had charmed the room so that no one could hear his yells of pain from his punishment.

XIXVMVIXIX

END STORY.

Like I said, I was bored and I needed some sort of outlet for how I was feeling at the moment.

I won't ask you to R&R because I know this is a piece of crap.


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